


The Case Of The Greek Assassin

by rightonmybins



Series: The Real Househusbands of Baker Street [20]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Life at 221B Baker Street, Drunken Confessions, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Humor, John's going to blog about this someday, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being a Drama Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:37:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightonmybins/pseuds/rightonmybins
Summary: Sherlock tells a tale of his past, and reveals one of the longest-held secrets of his life.“Sherlock….tell me something you've never told anyone else before.”





	The Case Of The Greek Assassin

‘Join me in a dram?” John asked, holding the decanter aloft.  
“I believe I will,“ Sherlock said. He seldom drank: his vices were few and alcohol was not one of them. But at the successful conclusion of a case, in the late-night glow of accomplishment and celebration, perhaps a whisky was just the thing one needed.  
He and John sat before the fire like two gentlemen in a Victorian print. The flames crackled, the clock ticked, the contents of the decanter slowly diminished. It was the hour of quietude, a time for confidences.  
Out of the companionable silence John spoke: “Sherlock….tell me something you've never told anyone else before.”

Sherlock inhaled deeply, knowing he was about to step off a cliff. The whisky had muted the guardian of his brain and tongue; he was dangerously close to revealing a long-concealed secret. But this was John, a man he trusted above all others, one with whom he could share the deepest mysteries of his heart.

"It was years ago,“ he commenced. “In Greece. I was wandering through a public marketplace ...and I was set upon and attacked."  
John looked surprised - being attacked was part of Sherlock's curriculum vitae. So why would this be a secret?  
“I escaped with an injury,“ he continued. ”One I have never been able to forget.”  
John, who had seen every inch of Sherlock's naked body and then some, tried to remember any mysterious unexplained scars, and came up vacant. Maybe it was psychological damage? That would certainly explain a few things.  
“And I have never divulged this to any man. Until tonight.” Sherlock looked searchingly at John. “I trust this will remain between us.”  
“Of course,” John said. “But Sherlock – am I really the only one who knows?”  
"Just one other. The second and third are dead."  
Now we're getting somewhere, John thought.  
"What happened to your assailant?"  
"Killed him."  
"So, two dead and one who’s still alive. Are you searching for him? "  
"Oh no. I know precisely where she is. I… keep an eye on her."  
_Her?!_  
Irene Adler slithered through John’s brain.

“You obviously escaped with your life. But are you in danger now? Has someone come back to finish the job?” John was beginning to feel dangerously excited at this prospect. Drink was re-igniting the adrenaline surge of the previous case, and his craving for action was returning with a vengeance. He wondered whether his service pistol was still loaded.  
“No danger,“ Sherlock said thickly. The whisky was having its effect on him too, but in quite the opposite manner: he spoke slowly, deliberately, with strong emphasis on each word.  
“John, believe me. ..when I say… it was one of the defining moments….of my LIFE.” He nodded emphatically.

John’s brain was operating much more acutely than Sherlock's, and he considered the case so far: Sherlock had been attacked by 3 assailants, 2 of whom were dead – he escaped with an injury – and now after an interval of many years, some murderous woman was still out there waiting to complete the fatal task. ‘The Return of the Greek Assassin’: his blog post was nearly writing itself!  
He looked over at Sherlock, who had slid so far down in his leather chair that his arse was almost on the floor. He certainly didn't behave as though he felt he was in any great danger. Then again, Sherlock never did.

But something still nagged at John: why had he kept this such a secret? Sherlock loved to boast of his baritsu skills, his head-butting prowess, his narrow escapes from death and dismemberment. And…Greece? When had Sherlock ever been in Greece? And Irene Adler definitely didn't want to kill him, she wanted to…  
_Hang on a minute._  
“Sherlock? Sherlock!” John woke him from a fuzzy little catnap.  
“I'm sorry, but I’m finding this almost too difficult to believe. Are you sure I’m getting the whole story here?” He fixed Sherlock with his keen bullshit-detecting gaze.  
Sherlock sighed, put his glass to his lips, realized it was empty and set it down again.  
"Oh all right, John, “ he said crossly. “But may I remind you, curiosity killed the….the….camel.”  
_Camel?_  
“I was in Greece on a family holiday…” Sherlock began in a annoyed tone. “I was walking through a street market. A …WASP… flew up the leg of my shorts and stung me."  
"And...?"  
"And an old, old lady all dressed in black.. grabbed me and pulled down my PANTS…and turned me upside down ... and rubbed an onion on my BUM!" He glared at John with cockeyed indignation.

There was one moment of complete, utter silence and confusion before John erupted with riotous laughter.  
"SHERLOCK! How the hell old were you?!"  
Sherlock admitted grudgingly: "Six."  
John yelped. “So you killed – _a wasp?_ And it’s that old woman who’s presumably now dead?” He went off into another spasm of hilarity so intense that he started coughing and turned a bright pink.  
“Spot-on, Dr. Watson. Well. Done. You.” Sherlock said peevishly. He detested it when John laughed at him.  
“Sherlock, you are a complete drama queen…” John barely got that out before subsiding into belly laughs again. _“Assaulted with an onion on your arse?!”_  
Meanwhile Sherlock, still struggling with his tongue, attempted to say: “It was the WASP that assaulted me!” but he was drowned out by John’s relentless cackling.

In the morning, after Sherlock had unlocked the bedroom door and emerged from his self-imposed humiliation exile, he found John in the kitchen eating a greasy fry-up and looking none the worse for his late night. Sherlock shot him a look of disgust while searching for something to ease his hangover.  
But John refused to let up. “Oi, Onion-Bum!” he said cheerfully. "So your mum is the mystery woman you keep an eye on? Wait till the next time I see her!"  
Sherlock turned aside from the nauseating sight and smell of fatty sausages and runny egg yolks and said: “John, Mummy is the only other living soul who knows that story, and should you ask her about it I can assure you she will deny it ever happened."  
"Why would she deny that it happened?"  
Sherlock rolled his bloodshot eyes at him.  
”Because I pay handsomely for her silence.”

**Author's Note:**

> Baritsu: Sherlock's preferred form of martial arts, at which he is a master
> 
> I stole the onion-bum story from Benedict Cumberbatch. I regret nothing.


End file.
